


Is it symbolism or something?

by debbiesocean



Series: Daphne and Rose being gay [1]
Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: F/F, Gay Panic, playing with hair, rose is very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 20:45:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15445482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debbiesocean/pseuds/debbiesocean
Summary: Daphne noticing Rose has pink hair, followed by lots of gay panic.





	Is it symbolism or something?

The lightning flashed brightly, despite the blackout curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows in Daphne's closet. She flinched every time the thunder shook the floor, much to Rose's disadvantage. Her hands were delicately pinning the pink fabric around Daphne's waist and shaky as is, the actress's sporadic jumps weren't making the job any easier. Rose thought that Daphne wasn't afraid of anything, but it seemed as though thunderstorms made her tick. Another flash of lightning came, the thunder inevitably not long after. Rose flicked her hand away from Daphne's waist as soon as the room was lit up, dropping the pin on the floor in the process. Daphne always complimented her on the fact that she never poked her, and Rose wasn't about to ruin that trust.

"Daphne, dear, I'm going to prick you if you don't stop twitching." Rose sighed as she kneeled down to get a better look at the task at hand. She huffed in frustration as a piece of her hair fell in front of her face, prompting her to take the pin that she just placed out and do it all over again.

"I just really hate thunderstorms, I mean who doesn't, right?" Daphne rambled. Rose knew exactly what she was doing, she was all too familiar with the never-ending chatter associated with trying to avoid slipping into a panic attack. The designer knew she had to finish pinning the dress as soon as possible if she wanted it to be pristine, but either way at this point it would be a mess. Daphne's constant shudders were already making the pins uneven. She saw the dim room flash once again and decided it was best to stop. She had built up too much reliance to accidentally impale the actress now. So she stood, now face-to-face with Daphne. She was too close for her own comfort, so she took a step back, hitting the mirror and cursing under her breath in the process.

"Let's take a break then. I can't pin if you're doing that." Rose said sincerely. She choked back her urge to sound disappointed because, after all, she knew what it felt like to be nervous about things beyond her control. "You know what they say about these April showers. April showers, they bring May flowers. And you- you're the May flower of the Met Gala." Fluff the ego, that's what Debbie and Lou advised her to do. Plus, anything to fill the now unproductive void in the room was a welcomed distraction. 

"Oh, Rose you flatter me too much," Daphne responded, flashing her world-famous smile. Rose helped Daphne out of the dress and handed over her baby blue silk robe. Walking as she tied the knot around her waist, Daphne crossed the room to the ottoman at the left of the door and patted the spot next to her. "Sit, I don't bite." Rose nodded and muttered a couple of words as she followed in Daphne's footsteps. As she sat down, gaze fixed on the floor, she heard Daphne gasp dramatically, making her eyes widen at the sudden loud noise.

"You startled me, Daphne, what is it?" Rose questioned, hand over her heart in an empty attempt to steady her racing pulse.

"Your hair! It's pink at the ends, why didn't you ever tell me?" Daphne asked, excitement and interest on her lips. Her hands made their way to a strand of hair that fell loose onto Rose's neck, fingers lacing through the blonde and pink. The touch made Rose shiver. She had always loved people playing with her hair. Unfortunately, it was always the other way around. She would be the one moving her clients' hair over their shoulders, holding it up in her hands, messing with it to make sure it looked good with her designs. Every time she did it she wished someone would return the favor.

"Suppose it doesn't come up in conversation." Rose managed to reply. It had been so long since anyone touched her this intimately, and she was thinking more about the touch than her response.

"Is it symbolism or something?" Daphne continued on, catching Rose off guard. She tried to make out what was said, but her mind was preoccupied with the thrill of such a simple gesture.

"Pardon?"

"The pink hair, does it mean something?" Daphne repeated, her eager fingers now unpinning parts of Rose's hair to get a better look. Her eyes wandered every time a piece cascaded down as she removed a pin. "Like you know some people get colors in their hair to represent a cancer ribbon or something." 

"I guess I just liked the idea of pink," Rose answered. She bit her lip, hoping that would somehow stop her skin from crawling with goosebumps. "I'm not sure about it now though. No time for doing my hair when I'm so busy. Plus no one takes notice of the designer, only the ones I'm dressing."

"Well, I noticed it." Then she gasped again, an idea fresh in her mind. "Can you wear it down for the Gala? Please? It's so gorgeous." Daphne requested. Rose gave a small nod as the actress continued to take bobby pins out, throwing them to the carpeted floor. "Look at this! It's the prettiest hair I've ever seen." She wrapped a strand around her perfectly manicured finger. She continued to ramble about how nice it must look in a braid, saying she wishes she could pull off pink hair, etcetera. Rose was melting in her touch, unknowingly craning her neck to let Daphne's fingers roam her hair. "You don't get touched often do you, Rose?" Daphne asked, but all Rose could make out was a muffled sound in her ears. Daphne took her silence as a strong  _no_. This prompted Daphne to separate Rose's hair and start plaiting a few pieces. She was in awe of how the pink danced through the bleached blonde strands.

Daphne was spot on, Rose was rarely touched by anyone. She never had the time for relationships, let alone the mental state. She panicked around her closest friends, which were few and far between. But working with Daphne was a new level of stress for Rose. Not just because she was wrapped up in a one-hundred-fifty-million-dollar con, but the way Daphne carried herself was so new, refreshing even. She was never sure how to handle her spontaneity. Rose liked routine, and Daphne was far from it. But at that moment, with her eyes closed, holding back sounds of pleasure from being treated with such delicacy at the hands of Daphne Kluger, Rose didn't mind the abnormality. She felt like she had been sitting there for hours with no intentions of leaving until she heard the heavy rain once beating on the window let up. Her eyes shot open at the realization that this was out of character, and completely inappropriate. She cleared her throat and stood up, defying her nerves telling her to let the pampering continue. 

"I need to finish pinning your dress if you want to go to sleep at a godly hour tonight, Miss. Kluger." Rose said, trying to regain her professionalism. She felt most comfortable that way, lines being drawn and not daring to cross them. Or so she thought up until the events of the passing minutes. 

"Didn't we talk about the Miss. Kluger? Please, call me Daphne." The actress smiled. Rose returned an unsteady grin and nodded.

"Right, well up we go Daphne." Rose grabbed Daphne's hand that was once tangled in her hair and helped her up, leading her back in front of the mirror. It seemed as if everything was back to normal, except for when the robe slipped off and Rose had to tame her eyes to keep herself from staring. Maybe the pink was symbolic, a metaphor for how tense Rose had become working in such an industry. Her happiness and color tucked away, waiting for someone to come and loosen her up a bit, get her comfortable enough to, for once, let her hair down, metaphorically and physically. And quite possibly that person was standing right in front of her, slipping into her dress, named Daphne Kluger.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated, this is my first time writing about them and I hope it was in character!


End file.
